The Briefest of Possible Smiles
by jjofearth
Summary: Written, unedited, in about 45 minutes. 700-odd words long. Typical, unremarkable Drarry angerfic. currently 6:45am. I just have a lot of feels. Also dedicated to Vic, for being a filthy pervert.


Harry hadn't realised until it happened that what he wanted most in the world was the feeling of a muscular arm grabbing him by the throat and shoving him up against the trophy cabinet, and the point of a wand jabbed into the flesh under his jawbone. 'Evening, _Potter_,' Malfoy spat. 'Out for a midnight snack, are we?' He turned his pointed face to the side, smirking viciously. 'Or just popping down to see if you've won anything _new_ this week.' Harry clenched his jaw. Malfoy's sleeves were rolled up, exposing arms that betrayed a life of all play and no work – athletic, yes, but smooth, soft, and vulnerable. Harry had been taken entirely by surprise – he had simply been sleepwalking. Not plotting, or adventuring under the cloak, just…sleepwalking. Which accounted for his current state of semi-undress – he had on only pyjama bottoms, nothing else. He was almost too nervous to speak. Gulping, he murmured, 'Jealous?'. Malfoy's cocksure smirk twisted into a hateful sneer. Clenching his fist harder around Harry's neck, eliciting a wheeze of pain, Malfoy pointed out: 'I certainly don't envy you your position right now.' Malfoy pulled away his wand, twirling it between his fingers, leaving his weaker left hand to pin harry to the cabinet. It wouldn't have worked, and they both knew that, were it not for the fact that Harry was putting up only a token resistance. Malfoy leaned in, almost nose-to-nose with Harry. 'Wandless, helpless…' His eyes flitted down for a moment, the barest whisper of a smile crept across his face, and he spoke again. 'Topless. I could hex you. I could kill you. I could leave your body as a warning to your whore of a Mudblood friend. I could do anything I wanted-'

'What do you want?' said Harry. For an hour-long three-second pause, Harry could feel Draco's warm breath on his face as it went through confusion, concern, denial, and deep, deep desire.

It was Harry that made the first move. The kiss hit Draco like a punch. His hand was still around Harry's neck, but his arm buckled uselessly to Harry's strength. Harry pushed his face into Draco's, grabbing the hair at the back of his head with his right hand, and sending his left to the small of Draco's back. Draco had tensed up when Harry started, but after resisting for a couple of seconds, could do so no longer. His hands drifted to Harry's hips. The kiss felt adversarial, not loving. Passionate, certainly, but not romantic, or beautiful. It was angry, animalistic, fuelled by testosterone, rage, hate, and the release of built-up tension. And neither of them had ever felt anything like it before. Still they pushed against one-another, almost competing: Harry's left hand slid further down Draco's back, and his slid around Harry's hips to behind him. Harry grabbed Draco's hair tighter, causing him to whimper slightly in pain, but Draco simply leant forward and glided his hand down Harry's left leg, picking it up to rest on his hip as he clutched the thigh. They parted, and Harry slid down the glass of the cabinet until he was half-sitting half-lying down against it, Draco kneeling up on top of him. '_This_ is what I want,' whispered Draco, leaning in to lie on top of him, before they pushed their faces together again to kiss, and continue their sweet, hateful ecstasy.

Another day, another feast in the Great Hall. Harry could see Draco with his friends, recounting the tale of how he had the great Potter up against a wall, wand at his neck. Harry got the feeling he hadn't included all of the details. Draco turned in the direction of the Gryffindor table, and readied his wand. He levitated a screwed-up paper ball into the air and flung it at Harry. It smacked him square in the face, bouncing harmlessly (if irritatingly) off. He unfurled it. It read, in Draco's manufactured, conservative hand:

_Friday?_

Harry looked at him across the hall, sneered, and begrudgingly nodded. The two exchanged a look of pure hatred, but when they turned back to their friends and both knew the other wasn't looking, they both allowed themselves the briefest of possible smiles.


End file.
